


Romance at the Winter Palace

by ThirdPretender



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: F/M, POV Solas, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-12-17
Updated: 2018-12-17
Packaged: 2019-09-21 11:39:47
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17043044
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ThirdPretender/pseuds/ThirdPretender
Summary: Solas spies Lyrial across the dance floor.





	Romance at the Winter Palace

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Morgalahan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgalahan/gifts).
  * Inspired by [You Change Everything](https://archiveofourown.org/works/13824897) by [Morgalahan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgalahan/pseuds/Morgalahan). 



The complex strains of an orchestra skittered through the air, providing a pleasant backdrop to the richly bedecked Winter Palace. Halamshiral displayed finery more decadent than any Solas had seen since the time of Arlathan, though the clashing colors and decor almost made him wince. A crush of scents, some expensive perfumes, others less pleasant, assaulted his nose, and he decided that humans could learn a thing or two about partying from the ancient elves.  _ And just about everything else, come to think of it. _ Still, there was something in the crowd beyond what he came for that made the night worthwhile.

Solas admired the lithe lines of Lyrial’s form where she stood by the Baron of Charileau, posture stiff as if she merely tolerated the human’s presence. Though her half-mask obscured her features, Solas had no trouble visualizing her raven hair and striking blue eyes. Even if she hadn't been achingly beautiful, Solas still would have watched her. She drew him like iron to a lodestone. Their bond ensured he could find her even across a ballroom as large as this, despite a flowing menagerie of masked nobles between them.

Guilt at using her, even with her full cooperation, made him frown behind his own half-mask.  _ She doesn’t mind. If she did, I wouldn't do it,  _ he thought, but his more pragmatic side scolded him for lying to himself.  _ Would I not?  _ He strode purposefully through the crowd, blithely ignoring mutters of discontent as he stepped on toes or pushed bodily through the crush. Soon, courtiers moved away from his unrepentant aggression, clearing the path to his objective.

Lyrial sensed him behind her, he knew. Her head turned just enough to glimpse him in her peripherie, and she said simply, “Excuse me.” Then she turned away so abruptly from the dignitary that the chalk dust on the dance floor stirred, causing titters by surrounding nobility. It’s not often an elf would dare to apply the cut direct. She grasped the hem of her white, painted silk dress where it faded into the colors of the sea. The way she bent towards him offered a scandalous view of luscious cleavage, only half as seductive as her smile.

Solas’ formal clothing seemed to tighten, and he offered his hand to her, both enjoying the view and mildly irritated that a dozen male gazes did so also, “Lady Lyrial, would you care to dance?”

Solas never doubted she would accept, and indeed, within a moment her elegant fingers settled across his palm. He drew her close, hand upon her waist, and led her onto the dance floor. She was warmth and life in his arms, stirring his blood. He wished for a moment that they were alone, but settled for modulating his voice for her ears only, “A bit harsh on the human noble, were you not?”

She shook her head, sending the feathers of her mask swaying, “His breath smelled of garlic and he kept staring at my breasts while nattering on about how big his manor is.”

“A manor in Charileau? I had not heard there was one,” amusement sparkled in Solas’ eyes.

“I suspect it was a euphemism for something else,” Lyrial’s face scrunched with distaste, “Orlesian doubletalk drives me mad.” She tilted her chin towards his and asked curiously, “Do you know who every noble here is?”

_ Those lips, so tasty.  _ Solas decided not to kiss her here and now. He wanted to tantalize her first, “Not all of them.” He leaned his cheek just past hers, whispering a breath away from her ear, “but I make certain to know who has expressed interest in what is mine.” He laughed softly as Lyrial missed a beat and nearly stumbled, righting her easily and guiding her back into the dance. “Our agents are very thorough, Lyrial.”

“You’re teasing me on purpose,” she accused softly, the hand at his shoulder sliding beneath his collar and thumb caressing the hollow of his throat, “Two can play at that game.”

His heart sped up, no doubt obvious beneath her fingertips. He released her waist to clasp her hand, kissing her knuckles, and warned darkly, “Careful, Lyrial; you have no idea how far I’m willing to go.”

“You can take me anywhere you wish,” she rubbed her cheek against his fingertips, soft like velvet. His lips curled slightly as he enjoyed pressing his almost fully swollen arousal against her through the confines of cloth. It took less than a moment for her to catch on and gasp with laughter, “Wait… here? As in, right here?”  _ Oh vhenan, _ he controlled the urge to groan, nostrils flaring instead as he picked up her scent. A flush creeped across the Lyrial’s cheeks as she glanced around, but he knew it had nothing to do with embarrassment; her nipples pebbled through the sheer silk gown she wore, pressed hard against his chest.  _ Of course she is not put off,  _ he thought, only mildly surprised. He wondered just how far he could take her.  _ She is always so giving, willing to follow my lead.  _ Guiltily, he thought,  _ I must not lead her into the Void. _

“I imagine right here, right now, would be somewhat more awkward than it’s worth,” Solas suggested, nuzzling her wrist before releasing it. With both hands, he pulled her belly tightly against his erection, the friction sending bold thrills of pleasure through him. They’d stopped moving, but the other nobles whirled and swarmed about them, seemingly oblivious to the halted lovers.

“I-” Lyrial licked her lips, then her smile turned mischievous, “There are balconies behind the curtains.” Her gaze flickered up to another balcony above, and his eyes followed.  _ Ahh, the library. _

“I do love the scent of a good book,” Solas inhaled deeply, loving the heady rush of smelling his mate. She wore no perfumes, but she didn’t have to. He’d recognize her anywhere, viscerally.  _ And look at that; pupils dilating when I touch her like  _ this. The silk dress, whisper thin, barely shielded her mons from his cupping hand. “Let’s go explore the library…”

“They’d only have to look up,” Lyrial leaned into him, hands clutching his shoulders. The sudden weight warned him that her knees had gone weak.  

“They only have to look left,” his lips teased her earlobe, nose brushing the delicate point. Their masks clacked together, but he loved the ability to make her shudder, “Tell me you don’t want to, Lyrial. Tell me no, and I’ll stop.”  _ Don’t say no, vhenan. Please, I need this tonight. _

Her blunt, pearly teeth found his jaw, nibbling while she considered. He rubbed his cheek against her temple while he waited, pressed unfashionably close. The sea of crepe, velvet, and crinoline began to cast them dirty looks. Finally, Lyrial grinned at him, nose wrinkling as she said daringly, “Take me.”

Solas nipped her lower lip, loving the challenge in her eyes. “Meet me by that statue of Andraste in five minutes.”

>>>>><<<<<

To be continued...

**Author's Note:**

> This is a birthday present for my dear friend, [Stacey Reilander](https://www.facebook.com/morgalahan/) ([Morgalahan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgalahan/pseuds/Morgalahan)Morgalahan. It's set in her world with her original character, Lyrial. Alas, I hope I did her story and character justice. 
> 
> Happy Birthday, Stacey! You're aces!


End file.
